


5 Times Odo and Weyoun's Walks Weren't Romantic (And One Time It Was)

by zombified_queer



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: 5+1 Things, Drabbles, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-30 01:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified_queer/pseuds/zombified_queer
Summary: The central hub of the station is the Promenade: the heart of commerce and diplomacy. So Odo and Weyoun walk, they observe, and they enjoy each other's company.





	5 Times Odo and Weyoun's Walks Weren't Romantic (And One Time It Was)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vortaesthetic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vortaesthetic/gifts).



**1)**

“You’re sure?” Odo keeps a hand around Weyoun Six’s waist, supporting the Vorta.

“I can’t stand being in the Infirmary anymore.” 

They walk along the lower level of the Promenade, going slow to avoid Six falling over. He trembles, still weak from the damage of the implant. 

He stumbles, Odo immediately taking the Vorta into his arms. “Are you alright?”

Weyoun Six closes his eyes, leaning into Odo’s solid body. He makes a sort of high-pitched purr.

“Why—?” 

“You’re so warm, Odo,” Weyoun Six explains. “Can we stay like this for a while?”

“Of course.” Odo holds Weyoun close.

* * *

**2)**

Weyoun’s still shaky, but not as much as last week. Odo stays close, an arm around Weyoun’s hips, ready to catch him. Instead, they make their way up to the second level, Weyoun pausing before the viewport.

The wormhole opens, iridescent blues and stripes of violet colouring the void outside.

Weyoun’s eyes are wide, lips parted slightly. There’s a colour to him, though, the paleness replaced by a lilac tint. 

“Are you alright?”

“I didn’t expect it to be so bright,” Weyoun whispers. 

Odo runs a hand down the Vorta’s back. “It’s very beautiful.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Weyoun smiles sadly.

* * *

**3)**

It’s platonic, their living together. Weyoun Six still hates being cooped up and notices the way Odo’s always happier on their walks.  
“You’re sure this isn’t too much?” Odo’s hand rests on the small of Weyoun’s back.

“It’s just a walk around the Promenade.” Weyoun smiles. “I’m fine.”

And he has been getting better after the removal of the implant, being able to go for longer walks, skin taking on a healthy purple tint.  
Odo’s hand moves to Weyoun’s waist, pulling him out of a Klingon’s way. Weyoun feels his pulse speed up, wondering if Odo can feel it too.

* * *

**4)**

“Peldor joi,” Weyoun says softly.

“I didn’t know you worshipped the Prophets.” 

As they walk along the upper level, sparely packed with celebrants, Weyoun Six laughs. 

“I don’t,” Weyoun admits. “But it’s nice to have the little things.”

“I take it you burned a renewal scroll.”

“I did.”

Odo’s hand is warm in Weyoun’s. “What did you write?”

“Probably too many things.” Weyoun’s grip on Odo’s hand tightens. “The war, all the casualties, our friends’ survival, your health.”

Odo huffs. “I’m in perfect health.”

“I know,” Weyoun says, looking up at the Constable. “But we’re friends. I worry about you.”

* * *

**5)**

As they walk tonight, so late the Promenade’s almost abandoned, Weyoun sucks quietly at a jumja stick. The sap paints the Vorta’s lips a gentle pink, the natural violet under making the colour rich, vibrant, lively.

“You’ve taken to those, haven’t you?” Odo notes.

“They’re one of the few things I can taste, since they’re so sweet.” 

Weyoun grins, offering the stick to Odo. Reluctantly, he takes it, relishing in the sweetness. And then it hits him that he and Weyoun have, in some nebulous way, shared a kiss. Flustered, Odo hands the jumja stick back to Weyoun, who grins.

* * *

**+1)**

They walk along the upper level without saying a word. Odo’s waist is around Weyoun for a wholly different reason than to just hold him up. As they pause before the viewport, there’s that hum of anticipation. 

“Weyoun.”

“Odo?” The Vorta turns, smiling at the Constable. 

“I wanted to give you a gift.”

Weyoun sighs. “You didn’t have to get me anything, Odo.”

‘I felt it would be appropriate.” He reaches into his pocket, handing the box to Weyoun Six. 

The Vorta opens it, a silver d’ja pagh resting in the bbox, nestled on deep violet satin. It’s simple and delicate, carved with the occupation of a diplomat. 

“Will you?” Weyoun asks.

“I will.” Odo removes it from the box, Weyoun tilting his head to allow Odo to clip the d’ja pagh on. “I thought it might be appropriate considering you’ve started a new life here.”

“I’m not Bajoran.”

“I think, perhaps, the Prophets will overlook it.” 

“Odo?” 

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you?” 

Odo blinks. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I’m in love with you,” Weyoun says, as if it’s plain as the wormhole that opens up outside the station, bathing them in iridescence. “You saved my life.”

“This isn’t just some way of worshiping me?”

“No,” Weyoun says softly. “I love you for you. All those walks we’ve taken made me realize, Changeling or not, I love you Odo.”

Odo watches the blues and violets fade from Weyoun’s face. He tries to imagine whether he’d be happier without the Vorta, without their shared breakfasts and friendly dinners spent in dim corners of Quark’s. He cups Weyoun’s cheek, the Vorta’s eyes wide. 

“I believe, over time, I’ve grown fond of you too.”

Weyoun’s lips, a lavender, are slightly parted, his breath hitches. Odo leans in, closing the space between them, capturing the Vorta’s lips in a kiss. Weyoun clings, warm and alive, to Odo and Odo feels dizzy with just this single kiss. He can’t help pressing another to the corner of Weyoun’s mouth, his cheek, a kiss against Weyoun’s pulse. 

“Odo?”

“Hmm?” Odo pulls back, looking Weyoun in the eye.

“I was thinking we could go to a holosuite instead tonight. Maybe Vic’s.”

Odo can’t help but smile. Vic’s been dying to see Odo set up with someone, anyone and Vic wholeheartedly approves of the Vorta, his constant need to undo the evils of his previous clones. “I think Vic’s might be perfect. You know he’ll probably spend hours going on about how handsome you are.”

“Handsome? Me? No.” Weyoun grins shyly, looking down, adjusting Odo’s uniform absently. “He’ll spend hours singing about what a gentleman you are.”

Odo keeps a hand around Weyoun’s hips, guiding the Vorta to Quark’s. “Or, worse, he’ll spend days singing about both.”

“How could that be worse?” Weyoun asks. 

“We’ll be locked in Vic’s for days.”

Weyoun looks up at Odo, mischief in the Vorta’s violet eyes. “I can think of worse things than being locked in a holosuite with you.


End file.
